


Fallen

by thesometimeswarrior



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Ficlet, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior
Summary: He’s never seen as much hatred on an Airbender’s face as he sees now on this monk’s, and Kuzon cannot blame him. The Southern Air Temple—whose air had smelled fresher and cleaner that anything Kuzon had known the last time he visited—now smells like burning flesh under the comet’s red sky.When the monk sees him—playing soldier in this uniform, even though he doesn’t feel like one—he prepares to strike again, and Kuzon throws his arms into the air. “Wait!”Kuzon and Gyatso, in the midst of the Air Nomad Genocide.





	Fallen

He’s never seen as much hatred on an Airbender’s face as he sees now on this monk’s, and Kuzon cannot blame him. He’d known, when he volunteered, that there would be blood, would be burning and ashes, that the Fire Lord had ordered a retrieval of the Avatar at any cost, and that that meant _any_ cost. And if a retrieval hadn’t been possible…well, killing the Avatar would do. ( _Kill him enough times_ , the Fire Lord had said, _and he’ll be born to the Fire Nation._ ) And killing _all_ the Air Nomads would ensure that the Avatar was also killed. The Southern Air Temple—whose air had smelled fresher and cleaner that anything Kuzon had known the last time he visited—now smells like burning flesh under the comet’s red sky.

When the monk sees him—playing soldier in this uniform, even though he doesn’t feel like one—he prepares to strike again, and Kuzon throws his arms into the air. “Wait!”

The monk hesitates, and Kuzon continues, “I’m just going to take my mask off.” 

He does, then replaces his arm in the air and breathes deeply. “You’re Gyatso, aren’t you? Aang’s…?” _Guardian? Parent? Teacher?_ He’s never been able to figure out the dynamics of the Air Nomads’ family structures in his head. 

But he doesn’t have to finish the question. The monk’s eyebrows crease at the mention of Aang’s name, and while he does not drop his fighting stance, answers quietly, “Yes, I am Gyatso, Aang’s friend. Who are you?”

“Kuzon. Also Aang’s friend! I came to visit a few times, and he came to visit me…”

“I recall you being too young to be a soldier.”

“I am. By about four years. But I look older than I am, and the Fire Nation’s not too picky, not now when Fire Lord Sozin wants to….Anyway, when I heard rumors of what they were gonna do, I had to volunteer, so I could come because Aang...I had to protect him...Where is he?”

The monk makes an attempt at stoicism, but Kuzon can hear the pain under the words when he responds. “Aang is gone.” 

“ _Gone?_ What do you mean, _gone?_ ”

“He ran away months ago. We have searched but have been unable to find him. There was a terrible storm that night, and Aang was flying…”

“You mean he’s…dead?” 

Gyatso sighs. “It seems likely.”

 _Aang is gone. Aang is probably dead._ Kuzon wants to topple, wants to collapse, but he still has a job to do. If Aang were here, he would give anything _anything_ to protect his people, and Kuzon must do the same in his stead. For Aang. 

“Then tell me where the Avatar is,” he pleads. “This will all stop—if we find him, we can send word to the troops at the other Air Temples and they’ll stop…what they’re doing…right away. Your people will survive…” _If you don’t…_

“I cannot.”

“Look, I get it, _really_ I do. But the Fire Lord wants the Avatar alive if possible, and one person alive seems a small price to pay for—”

“You misunderstand me. You are correct that I would not tell you where the Avatar was if I knew. But I _cannot._ The Avatar fled. And we do not know where he is.”

“Did he run away with Aang? Did they know each other?”

Now the old monk finally does drop his bending stance, closes his eyes. “Aang _was_ the Avatar.”

“ _What?_ ” 

“Yes.”

“He…he never told me.”

“He did not know himself until earlier this year. I fear…” Gyatso seems to droop at the memory. “I fear we put too much pressure on him at once, too soon. Traditionally, the Avatar was not told of his destiny until his sixteenth birthday…”

The image of Aang in chains invades Kuzon’s mind, _Aang_ wriggling in Fire Lord Sozin’s grip, _Aang’s_ burnt body…because that is the goal of all of this, Kuzon suddenly realizes. _Aang_ dead, or scarcely alive… _Aang_ as ashes…

The knowledge carries Kuzon, shaking, to the ground. 

And suddenly, there is _no_ hope at all for any of these people. There is no Avatar for the Fire Nation to find, and they will never stop, until…

“I can’t stop them,” Kuzon utters, falling into a prostration at the monk’s feet. “I’m sorry, but…I’m just a Private…they won’t listen to…there’s nothing I can do…”

Gyatso places a hand on the boy’s shoulder—more generosity than he or any of them deserve—and then offers him a hand up. “You are a child. Children should not be involved in this—you should flee.”

“I’m older than Aang. And he would have been involved.”

“Precisely. I learn from my mistakes.”

“It doesn't matter. My people are going to… _involve_ …your children.”

Gyatso is silent, and Kuzon suddenly knows his way forward. Aang is not here, but he knows that Aang would protect his people, his _teacher, all those children_ until his last breath. 

“I can’t stop them,” Kuzon repeats, reaching for his mask. “But I’m going to help you take down as many of them as I can. For Aang.”

Gyatso nods, whispers: “For Aang.”

He feels the comet pulse through him as he propels flames at the soldiers who come for the monk behind him, doesn’t even register the cries of _Traitor!_ And when a more experienced soldier finally bests him, when he finds himself alight, his last thought is of Aang’s goofy smile, of his imitation of Fire Nation slang, _Flame-o Hotman!_ , thinks as his melting legs give out: _This one's for you, Hotman._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I love comments!


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